


Not a Raincloud in Sight

by corellianrogue



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Character Study, Gen, Nightmares, You Know Who, everyone knows who
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-25
Updated: 2017-07-25
Packaged: 2018-12-06 15:16:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11603298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corellianrogue/pseuds/corellianrogue
Summary: Collection of short FMA ficlets and drabbles. Starting off with Roy and Hughes, then on to Ed and his nightmares, ending up with Riza riding herd on the office come hell or high water.





	1. Blue Skies

**Author's Note:**

> Starting off happy, for one whole drabble. Pre-series, Hughes and Mustang have a little chat. 
> 
> Cleaning up and posting the rest of my old fic that never made it here to AO3. Don't mind the dust.

“So when are you going to settle down and get yourself a wife, Roy?”  
  
“Probably about the same time you learn to take a hint.”  
  
“Ouch, just ouch. You know, I think you’d find a wife faster if you worked on that attitude a bit.”  
  
“Hughes, I’ve never used alchemy on an unarmed man before, but dammit, I swear-“  
  
“Wow, didn’t know people could turn that shade of purple. It’s impressive.”  
  
“So help me-“  
  
“Yeah, yeah, Mr. Flame Alchemist, I get it. You’re scary. I’m terrified, oh save me.”  
  
“Most people would be on their knees begging by now.”  
  
“Really, Roy, wasn’t aware you swung that way.”  
  
“Hughes…!”  
  
“Yes, Roy?”  
  
“Dammit, could you _BE_ anymore annoying?”  
  
“Hmm. I could try. You know, since Gracia’s been pregnant, she’s simply even more radiant than before. I think I have a picture. My, what an interesting twitch you’ve developed.”  
  
“That wasn’t an invitation.”  
  
“You should really enjoy the joys of future fatherhood, Roy. You know, the public likes the Fuhrer to have a child or two, with a pretty wife on his arm at state functions.”  
  
“That’s treason, Hughes.”  
  
“Planning on reporting me?”  
  
“Mm, I suppose not. You have your uses yet. You’d make a pretty good secretary.”  
  
“Haha, Mr. State Alchemist. Thanks, but no. I think I can serve you a little better by staying where I am and working under you.”  
  
“Why, Hughes, wasn’t aware you swung that way.”  
  
“Didn’t know you cared, Roy. Of course, I’d have to okay it with Gracia, but-“  
  
“Hughes?”  
  
“Yes?”  
  
“Shut up.”


	2. Not-So-Great Expectations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, wasn't happy nice? It's gone now. This is FMA, we aren't happy here. Roy has some trouble with life never quite caring about his expectations.

He’d come expecting a man capable of bearing the title of State Alchemist. Instead, he’d found two children who, besides being children, were far from being in any shape to hold that title. One was more likely to become a state guinea pig within a matter of years if something wasn’t done. The other... The other would likely have had potential - he would have had to in order to survive his own stupidity - but now? Now he’d be lucky if he ever recovered enough to care for himself, let alone practice alchemy. But still... there was a chance. Roy threw out his name as a safeguard, just in case. Just in case these two could still achieve their potential despite this setback, he wanted them under his influence. He’d gone back to Central, not expecting to ever hear the name ‘Elric’ again.

  
~

  
He’d answered the phone expecting some drivel from Hughes about how wonderful soon-to-be-fatherhood was. Instead, he’d been greeted by a voice he had never heard but that he recognized anyway. The name only confirmed it. So he sent them on a mission. It was a situation he had well in hand, but he wanted to see how they’d react under pressure. At least, that’s what he told himself. He really wanted something to scare them off, keep them from the mistake they were heading for by coming to Central. He’d hung up the phone never expecting to see them in Central.

  
~

  
He’d registered them expecting them to score well but go home disappointed with an invitation to try again when they were older. Instead, not only did both prove him wrong, but within a few days he was sending the kid, the new ‘Fullmetal Alchemist,’ out on his first mission. Not that the boy hadn’t already been through more than most alchemists met on missions. Unfortunately, he’d run afoul of Gran. So he decided to send the kid and his brother out on the easiest mission he could find, just to get him far away from Central. He waved the ki- ...Fullmetal... out of his office never expecting a simple survey of a town called Youswell to be anything more than ordinary.

  
~

  
Over the years, Roy began to realize that expectations and the Fullmetal Alchemist seldom had more than a passing acquaintance. He learned to stop expecting and start trusting. Especially when things started to go very wrong. He hadn’t expected Liore. He hadn’t expected the homunculi. He’d known of the corruption in the government, of course, but he unfortunately never expected it to be as firmly rooted as it was.  
  
So when he started in on what he expected to be a long, hard fought, bloody battle, he trusted that Fullmetal would be at his back; and for once, Roy was right.


	3. Roy Mustang's Guide to Social Drinking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't let the title fool you. Still not happy.
> 
> Like every rule in Mustang's life, there were exceptions. And he took his exceptions very seriously.

Roy Mustang drank gin, straight up. Usually. Like every other rule in his life, there were exceptions. Very structured exceptions. Exceptions that were themselves rules, in a way. The fact that he drand gin at all was somewhat surprising as he despised the very taste of it. Maes Hughes, now, stood by the fact that no evening was complete without a gin and tonic. He had introduced Roy to them. Roy had promptly gone back to drinking his brandy without giving the gin and tonic another thought.  
  
He actually preferred not to drink anything with alcohol in it at most times, appreciating the need for a clear head in most situations. What he drank, when, and with whom were all very important decisions. A slip-up could be extremely costly.  
  
Brandy was his drink of choice at dinners of state and such. One could not help but look distinguished with a snifter of cognac, for example. Brandy was a drink for those of status.  
  
Wine was only for certain occasions. He spared no expense for the wine on his dates. The best white when fish was fashionable, the perfect red for delicate after-dinner conversation. He had become known in certain circles as something of a connoisseur, knowing the perfect wine for all occasions. Roy Mustang was nothing if not prepared.  
  
Vodka was a drink when you wanted to forget. Hughes had taught him that as well. There had been no vodka in Ishbal. The exception to the vodka exception was when he entertained privately. He had been told he mixed an excellent dry martini with vodka. He never bothered to explain why he refused to use gin. It was chalked up to a matter of taste.  
  
Beer was common, a drink not usually enjoyed by those on the road to be fuhrer. Roy had however, on occasion, been known to go out and have a beer or two with some of his more loyal followers. At the worst of times, it allowed for a moment of relaxation. At the best, he could enjoy watching the lieutenants drink Fullmetal under the table. He enjoyed sitting back, nursing a beer, and noting the interactions. He always noted that while he would drink other things, Fullmetal preferred whiskey. He pretended not to remember that whiskey had been the first drink he had purchased for Fullmetal when he came of age.  
  
But gin… gin was a drink to drink out of the bottle while staring into the flames of a fire, sitting in a chair, letting the memories drain away as the bottle emptied. Gin was a drink for solitude and remembrance. It was an indulgence of his, perhaps, or a search for forgiveness. Roy Mustang drank gin, though it was a well-known secret that he despised the taste of it. So much so, in fact, that he refused to even touch gin and tonic.


	4. Dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ed dreams of the world and his family and nothing.
> 
> Written for the 2011 hc_bingo challenge on LJ.

The first thing that was wrong was that he had two arms and two legs.  
  
Wait. No. That wasn’t supposed to be wrong. That was right. Wasn’t it?  
  
He wiped sweat from his forehead before it could drip into his eyes. It was hot. That was wrong, too. All around him the trees had large, ripe fruits hanging from their branches but the heat felt more like the height of summer than well into fall. The road stretched out ahead of him into the distance, far enough that he couldn’t see where it turned or ended. Home was that way. He didn’t know the road, but he knew that. Why would he be on this road, otherwise?  
  
Without thinking about it, he found himself standing under the trees instead of on the path, the branches hanging low and heavy, as if inviting even a child to pick what they held. So he did. The fruit was heavier than it looked, a shiny, red apple the size of his fist. He realized he was hungry, possibly hungrier than he’d ever been. He didn’t remember starting the journey, but it had to have been a long time ago.  
  
He took a bite. And immediately spit it out. It was rotten. He looked back at the fruit in his hand and dropped it in shock. What had been bright and ripe a moment before was ruined and shrunken, as if it had been there for weeks. Startled, he turned to find Al. Even if he’d never admit it, his younger brother was smarter than him about a lot of things. If he didn’t know the answer, Al definitely would.  
  
Except Al wasn’t there. He turned in a circle, sure that he must have just missed his brother going to pick his own fruit, to test a theory, because he’d been there at his side a minute ago. He was sure of it.  
  
He called Al’s name but got no answer. Panicked, he turned back to the trees, thinking maybe he’d gone on ahead. The next shout died in his throat. Whatever was in the place of the large trees, with their heavy, ripe fruit, they were like no trees he’d ever seen before. The branches groaned and snapped under the press of no wind he could feel. Where the fruit had been now hung... things. Twisting, snake-like things that snapped and grew and moved in ways that made him sick just watching. They drew closer, although they shouldn’t have but he was sure he never moved. He was sure he couldn’t move a step forward toward those things. He could run from them, though, and he did, once he really saw what they were.  
  
Hands. Millions of tiny hands at the ends of long, boneless arms. He ran and they followed, searching for him. He stumbled and fell, crying out when the hands should have reached him.  
  
He opened his eyes when they didn’t.  
  
~  
  
Edward Elric woke up with a crushing headache and searing pain over his entire body, but the desert heat that had plagued him was gone. He felt disgusting, like a wadded up, used dish rag.  
  
He tried to move and failed. He had two arms and two legs, but only one of each bothered to listen to him, and even then only barely. He heard a sound and somehow, through some Herculean effort, managed to turn his head to face it.  
  
Winry leaned down to smile at him, relief bright in her eyes. “You’re awake! We were starting to worry. Not that anything could have gone wrong during surgery, considering who did it, but you never know.”  
  
So he’d been home the whole time. He closed his eyes, giving in to the pull of exhaustion. It thankfully felt nothing like a million small hands. “Thanks, Winry.”  
  
He thought he felt a hand on his forehead, brushing his hair back. That was definitely right.


	5. Strays

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finishing up with something a bit more lighthearted from Riza thinking about her company and the strays it tends to acquire.

Riza Hawkeye sighed. She briefly wondered if it would be worth the bullets to chase Breda off the top of the filing cabinets. This week’s charity case must be a dog. She read over another document and put it on the pile for the Colonel’s attention. She’d give him another five minutes to finish his current game of solitaire and then he’d have to get back to work.   
  
She made a mental note to acquisition more bullets. The Colonel would have to sign that, too. The people at supply were starting to become suspicious again.  
  
If Breda didn’t shut up and get down very soon, she’d give him a reason to. Fury’s habit of using the office as his personal animal shelter would have to stop. She’d only made the problem worse by taking in one of the strays. Granted, Black Hayate was useful in his own way now that he’d worked his way into her life, but most of these animals had no place in a civilized household. Before Hayate had been a small yellow kitten that had seemed sweet at first, until it began to make a terror of itself. Finally, she’d just had to step in. Unfortunately it had escaped from the office and, as far as she knew, hadn’t been seen since. For such a small ball of fluff, it had certainly been quite the distraction.  
  
Thankfully, Fury was the only one she had to worry about bringing in things off the street. Of course, Havoc had his excuses and her fingers twitched just thinking about the routines that Breda, Falman, and Fury were prone to launch into. But Fury was the only one who felt compelled to drag strays into her orderly, professional office. And her disapproving looks didn’t seem to be helping to resolve this particular situation any time soon.  
  
With a last, futile glare at the antics of the office’s other occupants, she turned back to the paperwork, deciding the Colonel’s personal time was up. As she was rising, however, the sudden slam of the door caused her hand to jerk involuntarily toward her holster. The second, even louder slam announced that Fullmetal Alchemist Edward Elric had beaten her to the Colonel’s office.   
  
With another sigh, she sat back down, resigning herself to another wasted day, her fingers twitching dangerously. Perhaps Fury wasn’t the only one to take in strays.


End file.
